It’s raining. Again. It’s summer, but the feeling of autumn combined with the smell of spring is flowing in my soul. Wide open window, pleasant cold wind, coffee and cigarettes… oh. And there goes this battle for the sun, not only in the sky, but within myself. I need to come to peace with the rain. The dark clouds. The fearless thunders. I, myself, am a rain. I pour words, feelings and memories on paper and once I turned every emotion into ink, I run dry. I become sun. All my clouds go away for a moment and I can finally be content. The universe understood me through my words. There was no need to speak, nor to scream, but writing was enough. Writing was like raining and I was always looking for the sun, but I couldn’t ignore how much I adored the raindrops. Every single raindrop was like a piece of my soul, falling all together, in perfect rhythms, creating a playful atmosphere. Almost interesting… My life as a rain. Lightnings never scared me, but gave me their energy. I stayed calm and waited for it. The lightning revealed the true face of the skies and I could see the gods standing there, watching over us. I smiled back and continued to write. Another sip of coffee, another idea. Another lightning. Suddenly, the rain fell with such a blind desire, as if Earth was only desert and never felt water before.
And so was I. Rain. I embraced the feeling of having it all, of knowing the ground I stand and the people I get to scare their minds. I long for seeing kisses in the rain and people holding hands while running, happily, to their homes. I, as the rain does, come once in a while, I don’t stay for too long, but I am constantly missing everyone and frankly, I love every little thing I have ever touched with a smile.